Slight Chance of Rain Ahead
by SeungSeiRan
Summary: Eleven reasons why you might as well enjoy the fall while you're at it. Mitsui x Ayako
1. Freaks, Geeks & Superficial Creeps

**Disclaimer:** Me owning Slam Dunk? I wish...

* * *

**Freaks, Geeks and Superficial Creeps**

_Reason #1 – Your mother will never know_

* * *

What's the use of a heart that beats in your chest if it's gonna make you ache anyway? What's love? Not a nice thing to feel. It's like inhaling smoke in a vacuum, your chest hurts and your eyes water. Nothing like the overused cheese you hear being spouted around each school corridor you turn. It doesn't taste as sweet on your tongue. In fact, you don't taste anything at all. You just take every pinprick, every sucker-punch to the gut like the street-smart wiseass you've made yourself out to be.

You forgot the part in your life where the mental stamina gave out and the hormones took over. Somehow, you find yourself recalling snippets of Biology lectures. Pieces of supposedly useful info, words like 'stimulus' and 'oxytocin', nice scientific-sounding terms which take the bite of your predicament.

Truth is, you're morphing into one of those shadows lurking behind dark classrooms and almost-empty bars. The thing is you're bound to be noticed sooner or later. You and all your gut-wrenching, heart-shattering monologues of woe.

* * *

There came that moment when he realized that he'd inadvertently stepped out of his skin, making him cringe inwardly at the sudden realization. It's terribly clichéd and oh-so-wrong, and perhaps worst of all, it's made him lose his appetite.

This, his mother was bound to notice.

"Since when did you willingly eat _onigiri_?" she asks, an atom of amusement and a trace of maternal concern in her voice.

_Because it's bland and at least makes me _think _my stomach's full_.

He saw her point. There had been a time, at the height of his growth spurt, when the fridge would suddenly appear almost short of empty. Mounting ages and other concerns had now taken their toll, leaving him picky enough to ignore the humble rice balls on offer at dinner. But his head hurt so much from knowing that he was slowly but surely regressing back into the naive, less jaded, more hopeful boy of his yesterdays that he assumed the noise created by the sound of his jaws chomping would drown out the rest.

He'd felt like confessing to someone about his predicament, moronic and terribly teenager-esque as it seemed. Kogure, he'd decided on earlier in the day. Halfway through dialling the boy's home number, he remembered that his good-natured, understanding, bespectacled friend was away in Yokohoma visiting his sister, leaving him with the prospect of entertaining his sniggering team-mates or overly helpful gangster friends with his troubles. Neither possibility was tempting him enough to spill his guts anytime soon. So this left him at home with the better half of the parental units.

Try as he might, he couldn't see himself sitting down with his father to discuss anything as fickle as girls (one girl in particular but that was different). Of course, he hadn't exactly helped things along by trading in his basketball gear for bruised fists and bloody noses once upon a time. His mother he could tolerate, maybe even get along with if he was having a good day.

But not _today_.

"Hisashi, don't you want some milk with that?"

He almost gagged. "No, thank you."

Maybe he should write a book one day, about the perils of one-sided high-school romances. _Things I Never Told My Mother _would make a good title.

* * *

The freshmen were at it again. Babbling on and on about the mysteries of the fairer sex and how not to approach them on a bad hair day. He doubted if any of them had even had a steady (he sure hadn't and he wasn't about to let them in on that embarrassing fact). Most days it was Sakuragi and his so-tearful-that-it-was-kinda-comical rants on how Haruko Akagi put in five squid balls in Rukawa's bento and only four in his. Today however, it was Kuwata's turn.

He heard them as he walked past their empty classroom during the lunch-break, home-packed bento still warm in his hand.

"Sumeragi-san, eh? Are you gonna confess to her anytime soon?" He heard Ishii speak.

"Heheh, to be honest, I don't think she even knows I exist."

"Oh, I see..."

"Um, technically," A throat cleared. Sasaoka's, he assumed. "She'd notice you if you went up and talked to her soon."

"Are you kidding? Have you seen that guy she's with?!"

Why did this song sound so familiar?

"Huh? You mean that she's actually _dating _that guy?"

"Takahashi from the baseball club, right? Aw, man..."

"Exactly, Ishii."

"How big are his fists again?" Mitsui turned his head just in time to catch Ishii spacing out his hands in response to Sasaoka's question. "Damn, Kuwata's really in for it if he asks her out."

"But they're not a couple! Or at least, I _think _they aren't..."

"You'd still be in for a beating of a lifetime if you made a move on her."

"Yeah. Unless perhaps you did something to really impress her..."

Ahh, teenage angst. Nobody seemed to escape scot-free from it no matter what position in the social hierarchy you snatched up. He leaned in further against the door when Kuwata spoke again, careful not to reveal anything of his presence.

"Heh, like that's supposed to happen to guys like us – "

"What do you mean, 'guys like us'?"

"Sorry, Ishii, but the basketball club doesn't hold the same sex appeal like say... the swim team. All those bare-chested guys in Speedos. Yeah, I bet the girls really go for that."

"Not true! Well... unless you're a member of the starting line-up."

Now he truly felt bad. Kuwata occupied the same position as he did on the team, the shooting guard. And yet, the gulf between their natural skills... ouch, the poor kid. No wonder he couldn't snag a decent date.

"He's right, you know. If you thought Rukawa's fan-club was a bit much before, you should see it now. It's like they've multiplied themselves by five or something! And even Miyagi and Mitsui-sempai have their own cheering squads. I heard some girls talking about joining yesterday..."

Really? _This _was news to him.

Three joint sighs echoed off the bare walls. "Lucky guys. If only I could be half as popular as that..."

"And Miyagi won't even look at any girl apart from Ayako-san..."

"I heard she's been getting pretty popular too. A lot of guys stop her in the hallway asking her if they can join."

The conversation had shifted towards an uncomfortable issue. He decided to quietly take his leave and then forgot to remember one important fact: sound travels faster in narrow empty spaces. Like heavy footfalls in corridors. He immediately cursed his negligence.

"Ah, there goes Mitsui-sempai. What a coincidence..."

"Hey! You think he'd know what to do?"

"About your problem?"

"Yeah!"

He played along, keeping his steps slow and deliberate. Sure enough, he heard chairs shuffling and a door creaking on its hinges. "Um, sempai?"

"What is it?"

The three Shohoku freshman benchwarmers approached him politely, only the slight glow of hope in Kuwata's dark eyes betraying their intentions. Sasaoka began nervously, "Um, if it's okay with you, can we ask you a question?"

"Well, actually, it's Kuwata's issue." Isshi jovially dug an elbow into the shorter boy's ribs. Mitsui noted the sudden blush on his cheeks.

He shrugged. "Try me."

"Okay... um, it's about a girl..."

"A really cute girl – "

" – that he likes."

"Except that she's with this guy – "

"He _thinks _she's with this guy – "

" – who seems to like her too."

"Oh, and he's almost as big as Sakuragi."

Kuwata shot dual glares at his meddling friends. "Thanks a lot, guys."

"And what does this have to do with me? I won't beat him up for you if that's what you want. Go get Hotta for that." He shifted on his heels uncomfortably. This conversation was heading down risky waters, _he knew it_. And he knew it wouldn't involve throwing punches of any kind.

"No, no, no, nothing like that, sempai!" Kuwata waved his hands about, the blush deepening. "It's just that... I don't... what am I supposed to do?" he finished lamely.

Oh my, was he, Hisashi Mitsui, being asked for advice? By the way, had Sakuragi actually grown a brain and Akira Sendoh stopped smiling by any chance? Whoever had spread the rumours about his womanizing ways must have had either too much imagination or none at all. In any case, he sure could have used a good PR rep at the moment.

"That's... quite a situation, Kuwata."

"So?"

"It's best you move on."

"Eh?" The kid actually staggered as his jaw dropped. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Plenty of fish in the sea. I'm sure she's not the only cute girl in Shohoku, isn't she?"

"... I guess not. But..."

"You guys are still here?"

The interrupter was female who obviously had a very light step in her feet since she'd slipped in unnoticed. Contrary to popular belief, he didn't know a lot of girls and when he narrowed down the list for a name, he immediately came up with one.

"H'llo, Ayako."

"Oh, it's you, sempai." She had her hair down today and she wasn't wearing a jacket. "And how come you're still up here?"

"Kuwata has girl trouble."

"HEY!!"

"Really?" she giggled, brown curls bouncing in time to her movements. "You could've just asked me instead. After all, I _am _your team manageress and a girl to boot."

"Well, Kuwata likes this girl – "

" – whom he _thinks _is with this guy – "

" – who looks like – "

"Would you guys cut that out?!" The freshman spluttered at his friends.

As the trio argued amongst themselves, Ayako twirled a lock of hair thoughtfully around her index finger, no doubt musing on men and their many shortcomings. Mitsui pretended to tie his shoelaces. It was already bad enough that he couldn't even follow his own advice. Where on earth was Kogure when he needed him?

"So, sempai, what's this I hear about a cheering squad?"

"Beats me." He told her shoes. "I just heard about it today."

She sighed with disgust. "We might as well close off the gym completely during practice now. Rukawa's fans are enough as it is."

"You'd still have Haruko."

"But at least she isn't the 'LOVE ME, LOVE ME, RU-KA-WA!!' type. I already have my hands full with all the fan-mail I have to deliver. Literally."

"Seriously?"

"You guys are getting very popular, it seems."

"Cool." He stood up straight, hoping that it wasn't wistfulness he'd heard in her voice. "How many did I get?"

"Seven."

"Not bad." He threw in a genuine smirk. "How many did Rukawa get?"

"I lost count at twenty."

His face must have fallen because she quickly added, "Seven's not that bad of a number. I know I would be pleased with seven if I were you."

_Seven is also Miyagi's jersey number._

"So... seven for me to choose from..."

"You're not actually going to date any of these girls, are you?"

"As long as she doesn't look like Akagi, why not?"

In spite of her slight frown, she laughed. "Don't tell me you're that desperate, Mitsui. You don't seem like the type."

"Like I said, it depends. Do I know any of these girls anyway?"

"_Depends_ on what type of girl you like. Go on, tell me."

_Spunky personality, knows how to command respect, maybe about your height..._

"Nice hair, long legs, small waist. That's what I like."

"Oh." Her hand had fallen to her side as if she'd been about to express something. "Is that so? Maybe I was wrong about you, sempai."

For some reason, lying hurt a lot more than anyone usually let on.

* * *

Later at night, Hikaru Mitsui sighed over the cold bento box. Apart from a few missing lumps of rice and nibbled pieces of fish, the lunch she had so carefully prepared for her son was virtually untouched. She began to wonder if he was having trouble at school again. Just when he'd said he was mending his ways too. Maybe it was time for her to sit him down for a talk. Proper nutrition _did _have a lot to do with schoolwork after all...


	2. The Better Half of Perversity

**The Better Half of Perversity**

_Reason #2 – Nudity is perfectly acceptable, imagined or otherwise._

* * *

"EEEYAAA!! Did you see that?! Mitsui-sempai looked my way!"

"RU-KA-WA! RU-KA-WA!"

"Oh, Ayako-san! I just remembered something!"

"Would you look at how Miyagi-kun dribbles the ball with one hand and barks orders at the same time?! KAWAIIII!!"

"RU-KA-WA! RU-KA-WA!"

"Yes, Haruko?"

"OH MY GOD, MITSUI-SEMPAI JUST WAVED!!"

"RU-KA-WA! RU-KA-WA!"

"Remember when it used to be just us two girls cheering on the team at practice?"

"RUUU-KAAA-WAAA!!"

Ayako sighed and clapped a hand to her forehead. Ever since Team Shohoku's stunning giant-slaying antics at the Nationals last month, the gym was packed to the brim with hormonal fan-girls raving about any given star player on the court. Rukawa's reliable old fan-club had swelled to about thrice its size, still including the original cheerleading trio who insisted on their 'pride of place' just above the benches. Not to mention the smaller, but no less aggressive, cheering squads centered on ex-MVP Mitsui and point guard cum new captain Miyagi. Ayako already had had to rescue the poor second year from hordes of his newly acquired admirers on numerous occasions.

"RU-KA-WA!!"

"Shut it already, would you?!" Sakuragi bellowed at them from his place in the middle of the court, freshly minted as Akagi's replacement for the center position. "Oi, Ayako-san! Tell those ditzes to shut up so that this tensai can concentrate!"

Miyagi shot her a pleading look for added measure.

Ayako cursed her weakness for puppy-dog eyes. Bracing herself for the task ahead, she turned around to face the over-enthused crowd. Fellow team manageress Haruko patted her back in encouragement.

"Ahem…"

"RU-KA-WA!"

"Excuse me – "

"Oh, look! Miyagi-kun's twisting that redhead's ear! So cuuuute!!"

"Girls, would you mind – "

"MITSUI-SEMPAI JUST WAVED AGAIN!! YAAAYY!!"

An exasperated Ayako yelled out to the shooting guard. "Sempai! Stop encouraging them!"

"But I'm just being friendly!"

"You can be 'friendly' with them _after _practice." Miyagi admonished as he approached his teammate, still brandishing an errant Sakuragi by the earlobe. "Save the waving for the next beauty pageant you're entering."

"Do'aho."

"Kitsune!"

"He wasn't talking to you, idiot!"

Mitsui scowled as laughter and tittering ensued at his expense. If someone had told him in freshman year that he would soon have to get used to taking orders from a midget, he would have laughed right in their face. Hah, trust Fate to screw things up and spew the remnants right in his face. Now if he could fit enough hours of practice in, he could perhaps… possibly… maybe, _just maybe_, he could bring back those old days of glory with the magic and the flames… yeah…

The door slammed open, breaking through his passage of thoughts. All eyes turned to the visitor, expecting the rotund figure of their beloved Anzai-sensei complete with kindly words and hearty chuckles. However…

Haruko's hands clasped themselves over her mouth.

Ayako's eyes widened.

Mitsui's jaw dropped.

Miyagi relinquished his hold on Sakuragi, the redhead hitting the floor with an audible grunt while the other gagged on his own breath.

Rukawa blinked. Twice.

For standing at the door was a pack of girls. Average-looking girls in average-looking uniforms all with the same vapid expression painted on their average-looking faces. Appearances aside, it was the banner they were holding that really took the cake. If anything, it took the whole bakery. A series of lurid red letters spread out over a shockingly neon yellow background to spell out:

'_The Official Tensai Sakuragi Cheering Squad.'_

To say that all hell broke loose wouldn't have been too much of an understatement. For Team Rukawa, this was the breaking point. After all, theirs was hallowed ground to step into. It was bad enough that Team Miyagi and Team Mitsui had already invaded their exclusive little property but to have it besmirched altogether by supporters of their arch-nemesis, the One Who Dared Lay More Than a Finger on Dear Rukawa-kun's face, was absolutely positively, exceptionally, downright mortifying.

"CHARGE!!"

Full court presses and perfect fakes faded into the backdrop as the players gawped over the throngs of squealing girls at war. Scary things to be subjected to, these catfights. All hair-pulling and nail clawing, they were. Ugh.

As the familiar sound of paper flapping flared to life, everyone within striking range steered clear of the apocalypse that was about to befall those wretched females…

"GET. THE. HELL. OUT. OF. HERE!"

The customary oohs and ahhs that usually followed Ayako's harisen-fueled outbreaks were soon interspersed amidst shrieks and groans of pain as she put her personal form of crowd control to practice. Soon enough, the gym was devoid of any fans of the human kind and Ayako was left with a steaming forehead along with enough threats demanding that 'justice would be served!' A sympathetic Haruko immediately appeared at her side with a cool bottle of water and a murmured vote of thanks. Sakuragi, on the other hand, had other ideas.

"Aww, Ayako-san! How come _I _don't get to have _my _fans cheer – "

The murderous gleam in her eyes shut him up in an instant.

Mitsui sighed in relief. It was definitely never a good idea to act on one's feelings. It was already obvious as to who would end up wearing the pants in their relationship. Not that he was looking for one, of course.

* * *

Tuesdays were Ayako's favorites. Double period of math followed by an energetic session of physical activity with Takigawa-sensei? Sheer bliss.

An hour and a half later, her mind filled with the pleasant buzz of quadratic equations and aerobic drills, she was grinning beneath the warmth of the shower in the girl's locker-room and the events of last week had all melted away with the dirt off her back. After much persuasion, she'd gotten Anzai-sensei to completely close off the gym during practice, hence effectively barring rabid fan-girls of all sorts. Suffice to say, she'd quite enjoyed the looks on their faces when she slammed the door on them.

Come to think of it, Akagi didn't get the same kind of attention for some reason. How odd…

Stepping out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her bare skin, she couldn't help giggling over the memory of Mitsui's face when Miyagi had called him out for his blatant flirting. Then again, he probably deserved the extra attention seeing as he _was _the leading scorer in the inter-highs, and he could be quite the charmer when he felt like it.

_And handsome too._

Irritated, she pushed the thought out of her mind, ignoring the heat flooding her cheeks. The locker-room was empty at the moment. She must have been pretty lost in her thoughts to lose track of so much time. And losing things didn't sit well with Ayako. She rushed to her locker and plunged her hand into its contents, eager to pull on her basketball practice clothes, grab her notepad and get to…

Her fingers closed around air.

The locker lay open before her, empty and void.

She reached in once more and pulled out the note which had obviously been left there on purpose.

'_Look out the window.'_

After hopping onto one of the benches below the glass, Ayako stood gaping in horror at the sight befalling her. Outside in the courtyard, scattered on the bush next to the science labs were her clothes. Cackling like witches around a cauldron, the girls grinned back. She recognized some of them from last week's disastrous practice.

'_It's payback time.'_

The bell rang, signaling the end of classes for the day.

* * *

She'd spent thirty-three whole minutes shivering underneath the window, despite the sunlight pouring in. Her skin was damp, Haruko was probably wondering what had become of her and she was clad in _nothing but a towel_.

A plan had already begun to write itself in her head. Naturally, there would be risks involved, most likely exposure. Still, since classes were done, there would be less people around. Those that _were_ here would have made their way to their respective classrooms or playing fields. If she was stealthy enough, she could make it past them to the bush in the courtyard without being caught sight of at all.

She took a deep breath, steadied her grip on the locker-room door and then opened it as quietly as possible. The empty corridor loomed large and it took much of her tenacity to make step after step on the cold blank tiles on the floor. Bit by bit, little by little, it got easier to make her way through, ignoring the bite of the air-conditioning on her bare arms and legs. A few more steps, a staircase, another hallway, three more steps outside and then…

"Damn Namura's really got it in for me this term…"

A familiar voice sent a chill down her spine, effectively rooting her to the spot.

"… two thousand word essay on the Seinan War?! What the hell…"

She ducked into the first room on her right.

"… and I'm late for practice now. Miyagi's gonna kill me…"

A few seconds later, Ayako realized that she had just stepped into the refuge of the boys' locker-room. This definitely wasn't her day.

"… yeah, see ya tomorrow, Kogure."

She dived head-first into one of the stalls before Mitsui could enter the room. It appeared that they were the only two inside, judging from the lack of the usual mindless chatter. She listened carefully. There was the sound of a bag hitting the floor, a locker key being turned…

Ayako sneezed.

The noises stopped.

His voice emerged, smooth and sharp. "You're certainly not one of the guys."

"It's me."

Her voice had come out smaller than she liked.

"Ayako? How did you get in here?"

"I walked in."

"Heh," She could picture the smirk on his face, offsetting the scar below. "Well then, _why _are you here? Are you hiding from Miyagi? Or are those girls giving you hell again?"

"… You could say that."

"You can come out if you like. I'm fully clothed."

"I'm not."

She cringed inwardly and so did he, she assumed. The silence bespoke all that.

"They have my clothes."

"Where are they?"

"I don't know! Maybe they've already run off to cheer on their – "

"No, not them, I meant your clothes. Do you know where they… you know."

"Outside. In the courtyard. The bushes near the labs."

"I'll go get them. Wait here."

She didn't need to be told twice. Breathing heavily, she allowed herself to lean back against the cool surface of the stall. The warmth in her cheeks was dying down in his absence. As were the goosebumps on her naked shoulders. In a matter of minutes, her pink t-shirt and slate-blue shorts were tossed over the narrow walls along with the rest of her stolen items. She immediately pulled them on in a hurry to make up for wasted time.

After adding the final touch to her outfit with her trademark cap and ponytail, she scurried out from her hiding place, ready with a delighted 'thank you' speech.

He was gone.

* * *

Hours later, Mitsui could be found seated at the desk in his room, fuming over the day's events. Namura-sensei had given his third year class a thorough mental beating in the form of a pop quiz followed by a mind-numbing lecture on the values learnt from some damn treaty signed in Okinawa and the notorious essay he'd been complaining about to Kogure. Apparently, Miyagi himself had been put through another session of torture by the same teacher, thus resulting in the point guard arriving at practice in an unabashedly rotten mood and latecomers having to run an additional twenty laps around the gym plus fifteen sprints, vice-captain or not.

But _this_, he glared at the textbook in front of him, was surely a sign that Someone up there truly hated his guts.

'… _After the stage of arousal has reached its climax, ejaculation or the release…'_

Damn Biology test.

'… _thus resulting in fertilization of…'_

Yes, yes, he'd had _that talk _with his parents already. Didn't see the point in replaying it at _school _by a _teacher _of all people…

'… _However, certain issues may arise preventing a full erection in the male party…'_

Oh crap.

'… _such as lack of a substantial stimulus…'_

It had been so hard to concentrate at practice with _her _around today. Especially after having to shift through a pile of twigs and leaves just to end up grabbing a handful of her… 'unmentionables'.

'… _Later on in gestation, the mammary glands in the female breasts begin to swell…'_

Black cotton, white star design, adjustable straps, thirty-one centimeters, size B-cup…

No doubt about it, he was _definitely _going to flunk this test.


	3. Fraternization

**Fraternization**

_Reason #3 – When your friends fail you, your opponents won't._

* * *

"Oi, Mit-chan!"

A crumpled ball of paper hit and bounced off the side of his shoulder. Grinning at Hotta's approaching figure, Mitsui caught it as it rolled off and smoothened out the wrinkles in the thinning white ink-stained material. Red crosses were sprinkled liberally across lines of incorrect answers, culminating in a looming single-digit grade at the end of the test sheet.

"_Four_ out of hundred? Yeesh, you've actually beaten Ryu's record with this one."

If Hotta cared anything about his academic failures, there wasn't a sign of it in the toothy grin he adorned for the show. Brawny, hulking Hotta, whose height had only been bested by Mitsui himself as well as Akagi in freshman year. Hotta, the tough guy who dropped the title as soon as he bawled his eyes out at Mitsui's return to the court, was little better than the hotheads on the team which was probably why he got on so well with the reformed shooting guard.

"Ah, whatever, Mit-chan. Just a stupid test. How did you do?"

"Sixty-two."

Mitsui might as well have been accepted into _Todai_, Japan's most prestigious university, given the heavy 'thunk!' of his friend's jaw hitting the ground. A year ago, it was considered a miracle for the former to show up for classes, much less take the required tests and actually _pass_ them.

"_Damn_. You must've spent all night studying…"

"Don't remind me." The memories seeping into his mind from that particular study session still bothered him to no end. Even Ayako appeared to have forgotten about the whole incident, reverting back to the perfectly capable manageress and model student that everyone knew and lov –

Ahem. To rephrase that…

"So, Mit-chan, you goin' home now? Practice is over for the day, right?"

"Yeah." He'd completed his usual perfect three-pointers, performed his best fakes, defended his side so vehemently that Sakuragi had almost popped a vein in his perspiring forehead, and _still_, not a sign of acknowledgement from her. In the span of one day, he'd actually summoned enough pity for the other team manageress, Akagi's little sister. The one that bestowed sheep eyes on Rukawa much to a certain redhead's consternation. A petty issue for most, including him, but being ignored sat less well with him than it did for Haruko.

"So you wanna go out someplace? It's still early, we could score some snacks."

Mitsui wasn't hungry but he allowed himself to follow for a change, too spent from the day's activities to complain. Miyagi had talked to him about his current paltry diet earlier, hinting at the previous unreliability of his stamina. He'd nodded just to please the junior boy, all the while watching the object of Miyagi's affection laugh away at a secret joke shared with an acquaintance in the corner.

So it was over a steaming bowl of ramen that Hisashi Mitsui, has-been MVP and heartsick ex-delinquent, found himself pouring over the general unfairness of life. Hotta's appetite was both a thing to be reviled and admired, he thought as he watched his friend shovel thick strands of noodles into his mouth, the broth dripping down from the chopsticks onto his hands. His own bowl seemed to remain virtually untouched even as the minute hand on his watch hit the hour in a matter of seconds.

"You haven't touched your food, Mit-chan." Hotta stated the obvious, dabbing not too delicately at his chin with a napkin. "You'd better. Didn't you say that the game with Miuradai was on Friday?"

"I know."

It was her birthday on Friday as well. He knew because Miyagi had mentioned it. Forty-two times today, in fact.

"I know."

"You okay, Mit-chan? You seem pretty down lately. Is it the game? You nervous?"

Mitsui carefully angled his chopsticks and managed to get one slippery, sweet spicy strand down his throat. "Not quite…"

"Stress, then?"

"No… well… yeah. Kinda."

"But you've passed all your tests!"

"It's a different kind of stress."

"Your old man giving you shit again?"

"Nah." He'd never seen eye to eye with his father on most things and that had only served to widen the already lengthening gap between them both. "He wants me to start thinking about my future though. Beyond basketball."

"Like college?" Behind square wire-rimmed glasses, Hotta's myopic eyes widened when Mitsui nodded his head. "Damn. What're you thinking of doing?"

"That's the point. I haven't decided."

Another point he neglected to mention on purpose was the fact that he didn't do well with choices anyway. He'd once picked street fights and late-night acts of violence over basketball practice, and look at what that had got him. Lost time, lost chances, lost strengths and now a lost heart. With all the things he'd been losing over the past few years, he wondered how long it would be before his sanity was on the line.

"You know what you need?" Hotta spouted, his arm snaking around Mitsui's broad shoulders and ending in a hearty pat. "A game!"

"Gee, how _clever_, Hotta. Fight fire with fire, shall we?"

"No, no, remember that arcade we used to hang around? Shibaki street, where we met Tetsuo?"

"Oh yeah." He often wondered about the older man, whether he was still on the run or hopefully, even if the chances were exceedingly slim, if he had managed to carve out a decent life for himself away from the maze of gang-bangers and low-lives that were integrated into the murky backstreets of Kanagawa. Ever since the night they'd met outside the hospital, Mitsui hadn't heard from him since.

"Let's go play some games!"

And once more, he found himself at the tail-end of someone else's whim. It wouldn't have been what he'd chosen for himself but no doubt better than what could have been if he had.

* * *

On second thought, maybe he should've gone home.

"Wha - ?!" Hotta gaped, staring at the scene. "You won _again_?"

"Just because your character has a jaguar mask for a head doesn't make him the best."

While Hotta ranted on about cheap moves and unfair defense, Mitsui yawned and rubbed the stray secondhand cigarette smoke from his bleary eyes. Five wins in a row for him and his friend wasn't taking it as well as he thought he would. Hotta's knuckles shone white from the bone through the skin, pressing hard against the fiberglass board of the game machine. The guy just couldn't get it. The basic rule of all games, physical, virtual and make-believe, was to save your energy for the best moves and sweep in when the time was right.

"Rematch!"

"You're out of change." He noted just as Hotta dug into his wallet. Sure enough, his hand came out empty.

"Damn it! And I was _this_ close to beating you as well…"

"Keep dreaming, man. I'm going home. See ya."

So much for releasing pent-in stress. In two days' time, he'd be facing Miuradai, a first for him… and Ayako's birthday.

As far as playing the waiting game, they both were doing fine without knowing who held the highest score. He was beginning to wonder if she'd been burned by an old flame in the past, or whether she had any new ones at the moment. Miyagi had better watch out. Pretty butterflies were bound to be scooped up into someone's net sooner or later.

An old girlfriend had dumped him because he'd 'thought too much'. With the state his mind was in nowadays, he wasn't surprised if his brooding had kept the best fish at bay.

It was late when he reached the station. A dusty old timepiece high on the wall above the counter read fifteen minutes past nine, leaving him with an hour and forty-five minutes until his curfew. Ridiculous as the notion sounded, he wasn't surprised when his parents had enforced one as soon as he'd returned from that fateful battle in the gym a couple of months ago. If anything, he'd always been careless, especially with trust.

Grateful that he'd been too tired for politeness and thus let Hotta foot the bill at the ramen joint, Mitsui paid for his ticket and boarded the tram, his eyes itching for sleep. Home still being a good thirty minutes away, he decided to catch a few winks on the ride itself. He sunk down onto a vacant seat and thanked luck that this compartment happened to be empty.

"Hey, Mitsui-san!"

Curses. Luck was turning out to be a worse bitch than time.

Reluctantly blinking away the drowsiness, Mitsui lifted his head, determined to send off this particular fan-boy with a well-placed scowl he'd learnt from Akagi. Try as he might thought, he couldn't place spiked hair on anyone he knew from school…

"Hellooo? Am I that forgettable?" The speaker continued, a jocular tone and an ill-concealed chuckle tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Oh… Sendoh."

Ryonan High's new captain and still ace player, Akira Sendoh seemed to possess the innate talent of appearing slightly intoxicated on life's little foibles. Case in point, the large splotch of mud on his shirt, goofy smile plastered into place, and a secretive twinkle in his eye. Mitsui vehemently hoped that mind-reading didn't happen to be on that list.

"Funny running into you here, Mitsui-san." The younger player mused out loud. "You're playing Miuradai in two days as well. Practice much?"

"I should ask the same of you. Aren't you up against Ryofuku?"

In the flickering glow of the street lights they passed, Sendoh looked almost confused. His forgetfulness didn't surprise Mitsui in the least, considering the many sightings he'd heard of the ace fishing at the nearby river, bustling about town with a pretty girl on his arm, or anywhere really, as long it was a reasonable distance away from Ryonan's cavernous gym and a fuming Coach Taoka.

"You know, the new team in the division?"

"Oh yeah, with the American guy. Okita, isn't it?"

"That's the one. Wouldn't underestimate him if I were you, Sendoh."

"Hmm." Sendoh, in turn, brushed off the warning with a casual wave. "I'll see to that myself."

Cocky bastard. It took a former pro to know one. Mitsui grimaced at the vision of his former self.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

"I won't. By the way, how's Rukawa doing? Still as one-dimensional?"

"If he were any more one-dimensional, he'd be made of cardboard instead of ice. But then again, I could be confusing him with that cut-out his fan-club smothered with kisses on Valentine's Day. It wouldn't be the first time."

This drew a full-blown laugh from Sendoh, the recipient of Mitsui's blue-blooded team-mate's one-sided rivalry. "And Sakuragi? Has he attained legendary Tensai status yet?"

"They might as well make Kainan's Kiyota the Pope."

Satisfied that he'd at least maintained some semblance of the Mitsui everyone knew in front of the enemy, the shooting guard slumped back further into his seat. Maybe Sendoh would take a hint.

"Heh, I kinda know what it's like to be that way. So confident and sure of myself…"

Or not. The last thing Mitsui needed was more talk. Not to mention about qualities he was growing sorely deficient in.

"I used to be a lot like those guys when I was in junior high. Back in Tokyo, I practically _breathed_ basketball. I knew the language better than Japanese, in fact."

Despite his drowsiness, Mitsui straightened immediately. "You're from Tokyo? As in the prefecture?"

"As in the city."

"Woah. Kanagawa must be really boring compared to that."

"Nah." Again with the thoughtless wave, Sendoh leaned back in his own seat across from Mitsui. "I actually quite like it here. Tokyo's pretty fun for the nightlife and sightseeing but Kanagawa's nice too."

The distant roar of a motorcycle did nothing to stem the carefree flow of nonchalance he wore like a cape, enveloping the spiky-haired player in an aura that Mitsui recognized with an agonized pang. Long gone were the days where he once adorned that mantle like a second skin. Maybe Sakuragi had had a point when they'd joked about his 'retirement'. Sendoh wore a white button-down shirt with jeans, stainless except for the brown splatter on the white material. Perfect poster-boy material, both he and Rukawa. A far cry from Mitsui himself, marred and scarred, a battered schooner washed up on the shore.

"What happened to your shirt, Sendoh?"

"Gee, you sound like Uozumi-sempai there."

"Late night tussle? Didn't think you were that type."

"Oh, this?" Sendoh plucked at the mark, unfazed. "I had to help my date sneak back in to her house. Slipped on some mud while giving her a leg-up to her window."

Mitsui raised an eyebrow. "Skipping practicing for girls again? Ryonan's going down for sure."

"A little fun never hurt anyone. When was the last time you went out with a girl?"

Much to his annoyance, Mitsui had trouble recalling the exact date of that particular day. Two years ago, maybe even three, since the chicks hanging around with Tetsuo, accompanying the halo of cigarette smoke encircling his head, didn't count.

Even worse, Sendoh nodded with a sage smile, his eyes closed to the fluster wrought on the other's features. "I thought so."

"So? So what? I work hard, I train hard. I don't have time."

"What's with the 'I, I, I' all of a sudden, Mitsui-san? Have you been forced to hang out with Rukawa lately?"

"No, I – "

"Are you gay?"

"NO!!" he spluttered, containing the urge to wipe that smile off of Sendoh's face with a fist. "I'm telling you, I don't have time."

"Or the girl."

Damn him. What was in those dratted lemons anyway?

Sendoh had won their pithy little battle of wits for now and the smile soon shifted to a grin. Saccharine, feline, and carefree, he cut an impressive silhouette against the evening sky encased in glass. They were passing the beach where the sand glowed like silver glitter strewn over a half-done canvas. Mitsui could almost taste the breeze, the salt in the water, the spiced meat in the _okonomiyaki _from the shops, the sweet sensation of the past summer on his tongue.

In the dark, lit only by effervescent synthetic light, he heard Sendoh murmur. "I like the calm here. When it's quiet and all you hear is the sound of waves. You don't get that in the city."

Speaking of waves, hadn't Ayako mentioned she liked swimming? Perhaps so, in a missing conversation he couldn't remember sharing with her. Just another part of her puzzle he'd just happened upon in the corner of his memory.

"Kanagawa isn't that bad at all, actually. There's always this charm about the things others call insignificant."

In two days, he would be facing Miuradai.

And Ayako. You couldn't hide a wish from a person on their special day.

He looked down at his hands and realized they were trembling.

Sendoh ambled along, unaware and unhinged. "I can't wait until it's winter. Inter-high playoffs and an excuse to wear my team jacket for a couple more months. I guess it's like that for everyone else on the team too. Or anyone in love with the game for that matter. What do you think, Mitsui-san?"

"'Love' is a very strong word."

"I know. Use it carefully."

_Was that a wink?_

He suddenly felt the mechanical whir of gears shifting beneath him as the tram fell to a halt. Sendoh stood up, yawning and stretching his arms.

"Well, here's my stop. Guess I'll see you sometime soon. Provided Shohoku still has the old magic?"

Mitsui didn't reply to the cheeky comment. The idea had just hit him. A stupid idea, a flawless idea, a desperate plea for help, a request for assistance, whatever way anyone else would have dubbed it. If he was going crazy, then he might as well go all out.

"Hey, Sendoh."

"Yeah?" The ace stopped at the exit, a mixture of expectancy and confusion on his face.

"Are you free tomorrow? After practice?"

"What for? A one-on-one?"

"… No."

He inhaled deeply before continuing.

"I need help."

Silence prevailed for a few seconds. Mitsui picked up from where he left, the heat squirming through his insides with every word.

"Shopping. For a friend. Who's a girl. Not a… would you stop laughing, Sendoh?!"


	4. Redheads & Root Beer

**Redheads & Root Beer**

_Reason #4 – What can't help you won't kill you either. Be thankful for it._

* * *

Time in its essence was like both water and wax. School hours, lessons, classes, lectures, the glimpses of Mitsui walking along the hallways few and far in between, each minute folding over the other and streaming away down the null void of things she would soon forget to remember. The hours spent at training were slightly better. At least the river of seconds seemed to tick along faster, almost as if it was racing to match the tempo of every dribble, shoot and pass on-court.

But somehow, each sight of him she managed to catch in her net for each afternoon she spent for the team, cheering them on and supervising their drills, was never quite enough. Each glance she stole away from the minutes accumulating on her stopwatch, just in time to see him score another three points or slap his team-mate a high-five with that smirk of his, would slip through her memories no better than raindrops over fresh leaves in spring.

No matter how much she tried to hold on to them, the images would fall through her grasp and collect in the pool inside her.

When practice was over and the breathless, but no less enthusiastic, vote of thanks for Anzai-sensei's presence echoed off gym walls, Ayako found time congealing to the thickness of monotony. Miuradai was still a day ahead and she also had yet to catch up on the realization that her year of sweet sixteen would be officially over on the same date.

Time was both water and wax. Formless and colorless when it flew, hard and tough to scrape off when it ceased to do so.

Ayako often had a few minutes to spare every now and then ever since Haruko had been appointed her assistant and hence, Sakuragi's official retraining supervisor (an arrangement that had rendered the Tensai a grinning menace for days after its announcement). However, a slight slip in Physics grades had seen to it that the younger girl was occupied with extra studying for today, leaving Ayako to navigate through the mass of sweaty limbs and testosterone alone. Not that she wasn't an old pro at the job in the first place to begin with.

"Aya-chan, Aya-chan!"

She looked up over the figures lining the sheet on her clipboard. Ryota Miyagi, although an inch or two taller than her, would always remind her of one of those adorably huggable puppies in the Japanese-dubbed kids' movies they aired on Christmas with his wide eyes and hopeful smiles. Maybe all he needed was someone to take him home and give him a ball to fetch. Ayako fought the outright laughter threatening to burst from her mouth at the image. She succeeded at keeping it to a smile.

"What did you think of the strategy outlines I drew up? D'you think they'll work against Miuradai? Or maybe I could change them… you know, tweak some positions here and there…"

"Woah there!" She raised her hand, signaling him to stop. Ayako had found out on many an occasion that the only thing that moved faster than Shohoku's Captain was his own mouth. "Calm down. I looked over them during lunch…"

The puppy eyes were back. She considered it a wonder that Ryota had fewer fan-girls than Rukawa or Mitsui. He'd certainly make for cuter plushie inspirations.

"… And?" He practically choked out.

"And they were good. Real good."

It was almost like a chorus of angels would sound out at the expression of sheer relief which alighted on his face. Coupled with the puppy-dog metaphors and the depth of their friendship, Ayako wanted to laugh again. Laugh so hard that she would remember why she wanted to forget something (some_one_) so badly.

"_Man_, thanks, Aya-chan! You almost scared me there with that look on your face."

"That look?"

"Yeah, you seemed a little bummed out for a while there. I was wondering if…" Ryota meandered along, tripping about on a few stubborn words before a sudden thunderclap of realization appeared to strike some part of his conscious. "Ah! It's because Sensei told you off in class because I passed you the strategy plans then! Oh man, I'm so sorry, Aya-chan! I didn't mean to get you into trouble. I shall go and confess to her tomorrow that it was – "

"Ryota!"

"But I ruined your spotless record." He offered, half apologetically, the other half in confusion.

Ayako sighed, tipping her cap forward and hoping it would hide her frown. Honestly, were all guys this _dense_?

"It's been a long day, Ryota. I'm just a little tired, that's all…"

For a second, she thought he might make things worse by asking her if she was alright and whether he ought to get her some pills from the nurse or something just as useless. But he remained standing, quiet, and almost… thoughtful in a way that made him look more like the leader he was chosen to be, rather than the wild youth from a year back.

"Yeah, I guess I understand. What with all the work and the tests they've been giving us as well…"

The anger broke, brief as it was. He was just as stressed as she was, if not more. Ryota had an entire team to carry forward and greater expectations than even Akagi had had to fulfill. Shohoku was no longer the smallest fish in the pond and they weren't expected to play as if they were. And here she was, pining just for a glance that probably would never come her way.

"I'm sorry, Ryota. For snapping at you, I mean. If anything, you have it harder than anyone else."

He smiled again, much to her relief, his cheeks covered with a faint blush. "Nah, no problems here. I don't even mind that we have more homework to do these days. Gives me a good workout when I have to carry a ton of books to and fro."

"Impressive. My shoulder still hurts from lugging that Economics text around in my bag all day. I'd hate to imagine carrying it all the way home." She winced at the thought as she bent to pick it up. Even the satchel's seams protested at the extra weight.

"Um, Aya-chan?"

She turned to face him once more. The red in his face had deepened.

"I could carry them. Your books, I mean."

And thus, awkwardness settled. One little pebble is all it takes to ruffle a surface that had appeared so calm.

"You would?"

"Yeah… it's not a problem…"

"Really, Ryota, I don't want to… you must be tired from all that running…"

"No! Not at all! I'm still just as pumped up as I was before practice. See – "

"Careful! Who said you could cartwheel?"

"Hehe, just making a point there…"

"You almost gave yourself a concussion! You can't possibly carry all those bags – "

"We could stop for a soda."

Phase two: the uncomfortable silence. Cue the unspoken stutters and sinking feelings.

"Um…"

"Ah…"

"That didn't come out quite as I…"

"I'm not sure…"

"Did someone say 'soda'?"

Ayako had never been this glad to see Sakuragi's red hair bloom into view. Like a rare type of unexpected mushroom. A particularly unappealing mushroom but welcome nonetheless.

"NYA-_HAH_! You guys were going out for soda without inviting me! Me! How could you share a soda without the Tensai?"

"The same reason we never invite you out for pizza. We always leave with our wallets emptier than when we started." Ryota replied dully.

"Why you puny – "

She had to take action. Now.

"He can come."

Two pairs of eyes widened simultaneously at her decision. One in surprise, the other in disbelief.

"Aya-chan, are you sure…"

"Why not? Sakuragi's made great progress in relearning his basics since his return. I think he could use a reward for his efforts. And," Taking great care not to let her eyes wander over to Mitsui's hastily retreating form at the main door, she began taking out the heaviest books from her bag. "He could help you carry these."

If Sakuragi had been a bird, Ayako would have been presented with the scene of a rooster puffing its chest out and scratching at the ground with its feet in pride. Given that they were but human, faults and all, she had to settle for the garrulous freshman lolloping over scattered bags, crowing about his victory while Ryota glowered.

* * *

The bottle was raised in iron-firm grip and tilted down into a thirsty mouth as soon as its tin-cap covering was pried open. Within mere seconds, maybe less, it was drained empty and slammed down to the wooden counter with a solid 'thunk'. For the sake of her worryingly slim purse, Ayako was glad the glass proved strong enough to withstand Sakuragi's roughhousing.

The redhead groaned with a satisfied exhale, rubbing circles into his belly. "Ahhh, feels much better."

"Hanamichi…" Brown eyes darting about for a target to spike, Ryota hit upon the very word as he stared at the five other empty bottles, once filled with fizzling root beer thick as molasses. "You're a pig."

"TEME!"

Over her own bottle, Ayako shot the pair a well-aimed glare, effectively diffusing the flames of discord to a less harmful spark. With Sakuragi inadvertently playing the buffer between her and Ryota, they could hopefully focus on the greater scheme of things where trivialities like puppy love and hangdog faces didn't have to matter.

Yes, she did feel like a hypocrite.

Walking home, the remaining rim of soda at the bottom of the glass leaped and skipped with each of her footfalls. Yet her thoughts wandered to the night, following the far-off roar of a motorcycle from a few blocks away, the boys' chatter reduced to static in its wake. What kind of music had Mitsui said he liked? Did he have a favorite band, a favorite idol taped to his wall? So many lost moments she had pushed aside for the slim chances of a passing sight…

"So, Aya-chan…"

She blinked and there they were, completely oblivious to the noise.

"Oh yeah, Ayako-san's birthday is on the same day as our match. No wonder Ryo-chin's been giving us too many drills and drawing up all those charts over his Math homework…"

Ryota's glare would most certainly have been followed up with a deft kick to Sakuragi's grinning face had her mental return trip to Earth and their conversation been any later. As much as she loved… _enjoyed_ the company of her boys, liked being on the sidelines and watching over their antics with an indulgent air possessed by an amused older sister, they were such _boys_ all the same. Delightful, wonderful, better than any brothers she could possibly have wished for, but such dear _boys_.

So she put on her brightest, most pleasing smile and tuned into the sunshine station. "Eh, don't worry about it, guys. But just because I'm not expecting any presents doesn't give you an excuse to slack off."

Sakuragi sniggered and Ryota looked absolutely mortified that she had dared to even think of such a grim event.

"No way! Leave it to the Genius himself! The Successor to Gori! The Layman's Champion! The Blazing Sensation That Shall Carry Shohoku's Victory To The Nationals Once Again, Hanamichi Saku – "

"So are you doing anything special for your birthday?" Ryota interrupted the speech to ask her, prompting a low snarl from the younger player.

"I don't think so. Well… Mum and Obaa-san might throw a special tea or something, just for the three of us at home. And Dad might call from Okinawa in the morning before school."

"Does he work there?"

"Kinda. He's stationed up north on the main island at the military base."

"Oh, I see. Aya-chan's father is in the army?"

"Yep. He was already a lieutenant when I was born."

"Military. That explains a lot." Sakuragi muttered to himself.

She chose to ignore that implication for the moment. They were now passing a street-sign, the white-lettered name taking on a ghostly gleam against its electric-blue background. Streetlights, incandescent and artificial, had a way with sketching their surroundings in both dark and pastel shades. The metallic clasp of her watch glowed silver as Ryota and Sakuragi almost blended into the shadows. Seeing them together always made her think of the long and short of everything. A lesson in opposites co-existing, each living by their own rules but with their shared harmony intact.

"Ryota, isn't this your neighborhood?"

As if waking up from a spell, the point guard raised his head and took in his surroundings in a long languid gaze. "Yeah. This is it."

"I'll see you tomorrow, you know."

The truth behind her words – if that _was_ what it felt like – seemed to cheer him slightly as he left them at the sign, raising a waving hand to Ayako and a warning to Sakuragi ("Don't you _dare_ oversleep tomorrow!").

Again, the notion of hypocrisy crept in, quelling the honesty she attempted in returning Ryota's goodbye and hardening the guilt-laced frustration knotting together in the pit of her stomach.

"Don't lead him on."

She was barely able to stop the startled gasp that would have erupted. Sakuragi edged his face around the pile of her books in his arms and repeated his words. "I'm telling you, don't lead him on. He's already been ditched ten times before."

"I know _that_! What makes you say that I'm… 'leading him on'?"

"If you don't like him that way, just say it!"

"I have! Once."

"Just one time won't fix what's been broken ten times. And besides that…" The redhead grunted as he hefted the weight to a more comfortable position. "… I've seen how you look at _him_ during practice."

She froze.

"Who?"

"_Him_."

"How…"

"Jeez, Ayako-san, you gotta give me more credit. The Tensai _notices_ things!"

The world didn't just stop. It must have imploded for the sole proof of intelligence discovered within the clownishly frightening recesses of the one-track mind of Hanamichi Sakuragi. The thought of it, the sheer idea of being found out struck her deep and hard. And by the village idiot, of all marauders. If Ryota's mouth was an electric motor running solo, Sakuragi's was a heaven-be-damned tank in comparison.

"You shouldn't be looking at him that way, Ayako-san. Think about it. You'd be feeding into his fan-club and it's growing bigger by the day or maybe by the _second_ as we speak…"

Yes, she knew. But knowledge wasn't power in this case. More like pebbles, each little nugget of information rattling her head and spotting her vision.

"… and he's so damn overrated! I bet that the press will be referring to _me_ as MVP before the season's over… okay, maybe not _before_ but at least three days after…"

That was a bit harsh, as far as perceptions went. Mitsui's bravado had taken many a beating since his glory days at junior high but he would get back up. He _was_ getting back up. She _hoped_ that he…

"… besides, you're his sempai as well so…"

The gears in her head cracked forward.

"I'm… _his_ sempai?"

"Duh! Don't tell me that stupid kitsune's turning your brains to mush too? Sheep eyes, Ayako-san, watch the sheep eyes." With that, the 'genius' completed his lecture with a well-timed waggle of his finger.

Barely a few seconds later, when her world had begun its usual revolution, Ayako had stalked off home and thanked the stars for the general uselessness of a man's talent at deduction while Sakuragi was left on the street, bemoaning the new lump on his forehead from where the Economics tome had struck him.

Never would _he_ accuse a woman of wandering eyes. At least not one as indomitable as Ayako-san anyway.


	5. For What It's Worth

**For What It's Worth**

_Reason #5 – A little friendly competition never did anyone harm. Win or lose, you'll live and learn, kid._

* * *

The name of Miuradai's new forward escaped Mitsui's mind as he sprinted behind the straggly-haired youngster. An hour ago, he'd been trembling from nerves, his fingers twitching round the slick cool soda-can and bleeding tiny beads of sweat into the moist metal. It was the anxiety, the others had teased him. Poor ol' Mitchi's heart couldn't take much more.

Whatever the true reason had been, he had left it behind on the bleachers and forgotten.

97 points in Shohoku's favor with Miuradai trailing by one. He didn't like those odds any better than Rukawa, guarded heavily by two beefy guards on the halfcourt line, or Kakuta, still reeling from having the ball snatched from his grasp by the newest whiz-kid on the block. But whatever this punk's name was, he'd grind it into the ground and spit on it later if he could just… make it… in time.

Ten seconds remaining. Miuradai still had it in them to win.

_Nine_.

His knees threatened to buckle.

_Eight._

He clenched his jaw tighter, bit down harder on the rising pain in his legs and simply flung the last of his strength into this final stretch.

_Seven. Six. Five._

The freshman took off the D-line, soaring to the net, his arm curved for the birth of a victorious dunk.

_Four. Three._

"YAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

The ascent of a large hand with its long fingers splayed like webbing came at the perfect moment. Liken it to a bloody sunset or a joyful sunrise, depending on whose side you were on, but the vision was clear as light: Shohoku's new center, number ten, had swatted away Miuradai's chances of a season trophy as easily as if they were less than paper scraps on a table.

_Two. One._

"We're through!"

"Sweet block, Sakuragi!"

Sweaty palms connected in smatterings of celebratory claps, the sounds almost drowned out by the cheers of the home crowd. Mitsui let the smile loose, tasting salt on his lips at their very first win of the winter season. He turned around to the empty bench, searching for the familiar sign of Kogure leaping up and down in delight despite the glasses slipping down his nose, yet all he could see was a blue stretch of wall. Blue – a few shades lighter than the jersey of a familiar adversary and unlikely ally.

He should have been ecstatic at the change in his fortunes, at how lucky he'd been to turn his life around so soon, and he would have until the sight of Ayako running to the court made his stomach flip over.

As he had feared, there was more he'd forgotten along with the freshman's name.

Miyagi was the first to break. "H-Happy Birthday, Aya-chan!"

"Yo, Happy Birthday, Ayako-san! Told you I'd win the game for us, didn't I? Ne?"

A blush spread across her cheeks, coloring every inch of her lovely features, bringing out the sparkle in her eyes and thus, rendering him a dumb mute who only managed a mumbled greeting. At least it must have come off as better than Rukawa's silent nod. It had to, right?

"_Sendoh-sensei's Guide to Girls: Lesson One! Greeting Etiquette!_

_Vocalize your joy at meeting her with a hearty greeting! Your positive feelings will be recognized and returned likewise."_

Bah. Obviously, Sendoh-_'sensei'_ hadn't put much effort into his 'research' as well as the Ryonan ace thought. What could otherwise have attracted all those screeching banshees to Rukawa the Human Ice-Cube who made more goo-goo eyes at the basketball than his legion of fans? At their meeting the night before, Sendoh had harped on about his theory about girls regarding the rookie's intensity on-court as a turn-on (_"Lesson ten! The X-Factor!"_). When Mitsui asked him if they equated that with being good in bed, Sendoh had chuckled.

* * *

He dunked his head under the ice-cold fount in the sink, hoping the water could quench his steel and harden it against what was to come. The parcel was still in his bag, perfectly wrapped in white paper and ribbon.

"All right, guys, you know the drill." Miyagi barreled through like a tornado past players twice his size in the locker-room. "Get cleaned up and remember to practice _complete and utter discretion_!"

"Or it's off with our heads?"

"Hanamichi, don't try my patience – "

"More like off with our balls if we squeal too soon – "

"MITSUI!"

"What's going on in there?"

"Nothing, Aya-chan!"

In due time, they were all out in the evening air, bundled against the early winter air. Mitsui focused on the clouds he smoked through gritted teeth and ignored the weight in his pocket. This part of the day, regardless of whether they would have won or lost, had been meticulously organized by Miyagi. The focus-on-winning part had come easy now that Shohoku had developed a voracious appetite for it. It was the waiting-for-the-spoils bit that was the hardest, even without the freezing wind to contend.

Ayako, on the other hand, seemed happily amused at the goings-on unraveling right before her. When his eyes did wander over to her, it felt easier on them to behold her in wool stockings and a long pink scarf around her neck. It could be dubbed 'strange', 'weird' even, to think he could know someone so well in her t-shirts and caps, and yet not at all when they were replaced for clothes he'd seen on many other girls before her. Yesterday, he'd stood over the precipice of autumn, watching the leaves turn red and gold. Today, he had immediately stepped into winter, looking up to the sky and expecting a snowflake or three at any time. Where had the jump-off point been?

The bus turned round a corner and soon rolled to a halt in front of them. Ayako raised an eyebrow at the sight.

"I don't know what you guys have in mind but…"

"Trust us, it's a surprise." Miyagi replied with that dumb cheesy grin Mitsui hated. He wouldn't be caught dead with a smile like that, not even under certain… circumstances.

They all boarded the bus without any difficulty, unless anyone counted waking up Rukawa who had fallen asleep standing. Which in any case wasn't the most likeable job, especially given that the string of drool hanging over his bottom lip had frozen into a semi-solid icicle. In the end, Sakuragi punched it off, Rukawa kicked back, Ayako took a swipe at both of them with a rolled-up score-sheet which effectively calmed the duo and they were soon on their way.

* * *

Mitsui had chosen the venue.

It was comfy, cozy and more importantly, it didn't reek of romantic overtures like that frilly Western-style tea-shop next door. He had come across it with Sendoh on their hunt for the perfect present the night before. What had caught his eye weren't the warm maroon walls or the black lacquered tables or even the menu that would satisfy the most insatiable of appetites (note: Sakuragi).

"Recognize anyone?" he asked their group as they entered.

Sakuragi's gaze latched onto a pair of waiters wiping up a spill on the floor.

"WILD MONKEY!"

Nobunaga Kiyota let out a bestial howl at the shock of the public announcement of that hated moniker, causing Soichiro Jin to splash more detergent on himself in surprise. Their commotion was only overshadowed by the deep-throated roar of laughter which erupted from team Shohoku, overwhelmed at the sight of two members of Kanagawa's top-seeded team reduced to what they saw now.

A furious Kiyota pointed an accusing finger at a grinning Mitsui.

"You promised not to tell anyone!"

"I promised not to tell _Maki_. Everyone else was fair game. Besides, I'm sure Sendoh must've already blabbed to the whole of Ryonan. And by the way, 'telling' isn't the same as 'showing'."

"Screw you!"

"MWAHAHAHAHAH! Looks like nothing's beneath Wild Monkey's abilities!"

"What exactly…" Miyagi, addressing Jin, couldn't finish the question before succumbing to another wave of laughter. The Kainan duo was certainly a peculiar sight out of their usual uniforms and in servers' garb instead. The maroon clashed horribly with flushed cheeks.

Jin bowed his head low in shame and began their story.

"Well, we were walking home from training as usual – "

"It was getting dark, even with the lights outside – "

"And Kiyota wanted to practice his shooting skills on the way – "

"Sempai wanted to test his passing – "

"So he shot the ball too high, over my head – "

"He couldn't catch it in time and – "

"There was this window. A brand new one, I'm guessing, judging by the manager's reaction…"

"He sure was pissed."

"Of course, he wanted compensation."

"We didn't have the cash – "

"Since I had to pay for Kiyota's and my dinner a while back."

"So we end up as… _these_," Kiyota snarled as he plucked at the hem of his shirt gingerly. "Until we've covered our debt."

"Please don't tell Maki-sempai or Takato-sensei!"

Earnest as their plea was - one's screech softened slightly by the other's fretful tone - it only 'served' to send more ripples of sniggers through the heavyset shoulders of their nemesis. Images of Kainan's Coach Takato with his fan tight in a death-grip appearing in an overwrought scene depicting Jin and Kiyota's ultimate humiliation flashed through their minds, sending the Shohoku players into fits of bawdy laughter (not counting Rukawa snoozing in his own private corner).

And somewhere beneath the scraps of frivolity, the cloudy edges of mirth blurring his nerves to a hot pool of recklessness, Mitsui felt it. The urge to end the game in one fell swoop was a burn in his chest, him wanting to wipe that dumb grin off Miyagi's face, wanting to wrap an arm around Ayako's shoulders like it was the easiest thing in the world behind a three-pointer, _wanting_ to win this round so bad…

The door swung open and a hulking shadow fell upon them. As the old tale would have gone, a heavy silence should have engulfed the unruly crowd. And so it would have gone as planned, were it not for clichés being as significant as empty plates to Sakuragi.

"Oh, it's just Gori!"

Akagi's expression wavered on the fine line between annoyance and bemusement.

"Hey, he brought Megane-kun with him too! And… and…" For all the world could see, Sakuragi's eyes may have streamed rivers of pink hearts and roses at the sight of Haruko shyly peering from behind her brother's towering form. Disgusted, Mitsui deliberately ignored the pantomime and waved to Kogure. The boy replied with a smile, one of the soft steady ones that felt as natural as a spring breeze springing open a door. Ayako's smile felt just as nice, hinting at cinnamon and something bittersweet if he were to judge by the twist of her lips alone. He could handle this part of falling, the feel of anti-gravity whistling past his ears as he plummeted upside-down into the sky. Endless and light.

'_Sendoh-sensei's Guide to Girls: Quick Tip One! Look before you leap for you can never be sure how hard you land!'_

The bracelet, innocently wrapped in white paper and silver ribbon, loomed over him in the dark of his pocket. He could whip it out like a magician, like Haruko producing the home-made birthday cake from the package concealed behind her back, with a flick of his wrist and a smug expression of mock surprise…

No, too cheesy. Especially with the whole team bursting into a chorus of 'Happy Birthday!' at the same time. Especially considering how each loud off-key note sent his bravado tipping into the realm of stage-fright. _Especially_ when he opened his eyes and saw the cold hard ground instead of a soft bed of clouds hurtling towards him.

"Is something the matter, Mitsui?" He turned to face Kogure who'd tapped his shoulder. Concern? Hell, he couldn't be as obvious as Sakuragi or Miyagi, right?

Still, he heartily dug into his slice of cake when the time came to show that he had his feet planted firmly on earth even if his mind was prone to wandering through the stars. And still, he waited for a glimpse of her, sometimes a mere shake of her curls in laughter, to remind himself why he could remain in orbit for this long. A peal of laughter from her spelled a good omen for him. A gaze aimed at no one in particular made his doubts spring to life once more. He would follow the path of her sight, then trail off. If there was someone else, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"_Happy Birthday, Ayako. Please accept this as a token of my…"_

"_Hey, Ayako! I was wondering if…"_

"_Here, take it."_

One by one, he dismissed each opening line. They each sounded worse than the one before in his head, more so when he muttered them under his breath. Distractions came and went in the form of Akagi dealing blow upon blow to an incorrigible Sakuragi, with Kiyota and Jin rushing about to appease some picky customers… and yet, the peace offering weighed heavily upon his thoughts.

Miyagi's voice wafted into his consciousness. "You've been quiet since we entered, Mitsui-san. Something on your mind?"

"English class."

"Seriously?"

"When something's more trouble than it's worth. A white elephant, they call it."

Mitsui immediately regretted his words as soon as Miyagi narrowed his eyes. His own white package seemed to shrink within its confines.

"Are you trying to tell me that – "

"No, this party's _not_ a waste of time, Pipsqueak. You don't have to jump to conclusions."

Thankfully, the second-year relaxed enough to resume his conversation with Ayako. Just across them on the other side of the table, Mitsui barely made out words like 'economics' and 'last night'. It felt warmer than it looked outdoors and that wonderful smell of freshly baked pizza was nothing short of a teenage boy's culinary heaven. If he concentrated less on what he'd promised to try, let his eyes drift out of focus on the scene and then all he'd see was the pink in her cheeks if he could just make it in time.

She'd still glow brighter than any silver he could splash out on for her.

'_Lesson Two!_

_Courage!'_

"… Ayako?"

"Mitsui-sempai, is something bothering you?"

"Nope. It's beautiful – I mean, it's a beautiful cake – it's a beautiful day!"

"Well, it certainly _was_…"

'_Lesson Three!_

_Wit! Intelligence is a turn-on, especially when it's not one of her best qualities!'_

"Damn Sendoh."

"Excuse me?"

"Uh… um, damn waiter! Get back here and bring me another soda, Monkey!"

"Are you feeling ill, Sempai? Your hands are shaking."

"No. No, they aren't."

"Yes, they are. Why else are they behind your head? I think I know you a lot better than you give me credit for."

He couldn't help but let the smile play loose. _No, I don't think you do._

* * *

'_Lesson Four!_

_Be yourself! Unless you're Fukuda-kun, what's the worst that can happen?'_

A lot. A lot _could_ happen.

It was nearing the end of the impromptu party. As ensured by Sakuragi, there were no leftover crumbs or cash ("Dammit, Hanamichi, didn't we tell you to stop at second servings?"). As declared by Ayako, it was the best birthday ever.

"Really, I don't know how to thank you. You guys are the best…"

"So are you."

Miyagi said it first. Miyagi was here first. Miyagi had taken the first step Mitsui had been so wary of.

"So are you, Aya-chan."

The few times that the Shohoku High basketball team had ever been rendered stock-still silent could be counted on a cat's paw. After this, the tally would have to be moved onto a hand. The freshers broke it with a flurry of whoops and cheers with the others soon joining in. Mitsui had never thought he'd find the sound of celebration _so loud_.

That idiot Miyagi was redder than the logo on his shirt. What did he need to be so embarrassed for? He'd done what he set out to do. Girls admired determination. Ayako must have _loved_ it. He'd always known she would, especially with that look on her face. Maybe Miyagi knew that too, what with that giddy smile.

Lucky.

'_Lesson Five_

_If all else fails, then move along, my friend! After all she's just a girl and there'll be others!'_

Ayako wasn't 'just a girl'. She was _the_ girl.

But nevertheless, he slipped his old smirk on and slowly began to clap. The gift would return to his desk-drawer, unwrapped and useless by the time this night was over.


	6. Rain, Rain, Come Again?

**Rain, Rain, Come Again?**

_Reason #6 – Even silver linings reflect the gold beneath_

* * *

… _What?_

"So are you, Aya-chan."

In retrospect, it hadn't been the worst sort of confession to receive. Ayako had endured the brunt of many during her years at middle-school, three years flush with hormonal boys bent on curious exploration ("More like exploitation," her father had huffed). Ryota had once been one of those boys to her; dewy-eyed, sniveling after fourth-period Info Tech while promising that her rejection hadn't hurt _that_ hard.

But that had been freshman year when they were _all_ looking to be better than that. Ayako had set out to prove herself the best damn manager Shohoku's struggling basketball club would ever come across and Ryota too had had a point to prove. The two of them had begun from the bottom, determined to scrape whatever they could to grow towards their goals. He'd always made sure the seniors wouldn't rag on her and in turn, she'd helped him make the most of his sparse study-skills.

"You're the best, Aya-chan. You deserve it."

Should she be flattered, amused, thankful, irritated, indifferent? It was the same string of undertones that always got to her, least of all in the way Ryota intended. 'That poor, sweet boy', her grandmother would have dubbed him with a shake of her head and a toothy, secretive smile. 'At least he ought to receive points for perseverance. Does that count for anything in those silly ball-games they play?'

There had been plenty of time, plenty of the same blushing questions to contend with for her to construe the perfect reply.

"Um, Ryota…"

And all she could come up with was an adjunct.

"Ryota, about what you meant after…"

He looked at her that same way, caught between hope and a sigh. The party had ended a half-hour ago and they were walking the last few kilometers to her house alone (Sakuragi had conjured an appropriate enough excuse to walk Haruko home, much to Akagi's consternation). This was always the worst part. Surely, Ryota could have seen this coming, what with the history they shared. Was he this much of a masochist?

Ayako sighed. Here it goes again…

"I still can't thank you guys enough for what you did. Only two years as manager and… wow, I didn't see that coming."

"Of course. You're awesome and you should know it."

"Yeah," Her stomach clenched in guilt. "I'm glad you think so. More than glad, actually. You mean a lot to me as a friend, Ryota. I think you're pretty awesome yourself."

"So, is this when you're supposed to tell me that that's why I can't be more than just a 'friend'?" To his credit, he was smiling. Sadly, knowingly, but it was still a nice smile. "Man, I always thought I'd get used to hearing that…"

_Ouch_.

"Trust me, you won't be hearing it for too long. There must be girls lining halfway round the block just to get you to know their names. Give them a chance, for a change."

Ryota scratched the back of his head, his cheeks staining pink. "Gee, I don't know. Ten times is a hard number to live down."

"Last time I checked, there were more than ten girls attending Shohoku."

"And you're one in a million."

"So's the next girl."

"Woah, you're pushing it, huh?"

"If that's what it is." She allowed herself a chuckle. Ryota deserved a lot more credit than she gave him. He'd really learnt to take things in stride, regardless of how many dead ends he seemed to meet in the romance department. Maybe this captain thing was a role he could grow into further along the way. She'd like to see that. "Besides, what's to lose?"

"My pride, dignity, concentration, maybe a limb or two if Rukawa's fans are anything to judge by…"

"Ah, Ryota, you'll find a way. You always do."

He stopped in his tracks on realizing that she meant it. "… You think so?"

Ayako frowned. "Of course. I _know_ so."

"… Seriously?"

"Ryota Miyagi, you're leading the second-ranked basketball team in Kanagawa, outpaced and outsmarted some of the tallest players I've seen, and beaten a couple of thugs hard enough to have them coming back to get you… okay, that last one's kinda dodgy but you have the rest to be proud of. You should be."

"Yeah, I guess." The blush on his face grew deeper into a vivid Shohoku red.

"You don't need a girl to make you feel on top of the world when you're already this close to having it at your feet."

"True, but…" Ryota gazed wistfully at the night clouds. Away from her. "It's not that I'm not happy with what I have. It'd just… be nice to have that something… someone extra. Just to complete it? You know, someone I could share that with, someone who could be happy for me too. And maybe I could be the one to make them happy if they wanted…"

She did know. As far as she could remember, she had hardly seen a tough-talking shooting guard smile that often off-court. Or even laugh out loud. A token smirk just wasn't the same.

"You'll meet someone, Ryota. It'd be hard not to with an attitude like that."

"Maybe I already have?" He added hopefully. She shook her head, grinning it off.

"Being your friend adds to my happiness. You need to find someone who'll guarantee that you can live even without that."

A horror-struck expression hit him so hard his jaw dropped and she choked on her laughter. "Seriously, Aya-chan? I'd never date a girl who'd make me give you up as a friend."

"Well, maybe not that extreme. But it'd be someone who'd love you enough to not have you make that choice."

A soft silence fell upon them as Ryota appeared to mull the idea over. She glanced up, hoping for snowflakes to weigh the quiet down with the sparkle of their descents. A little tremor had wormed its way into her thoughts as soon as she'd voiced them a second ago. Ayako didn't want to be a dead-weight between two friends. Rather, she didn't want what she and Ryota shared to be pulled apart by their feelings for any other that would show up on their paths, whether they diverged or not.

She didn't want the taint of a crush souring her relationship with Ryota, nor did she want an echo of those wavering feelings worming their way into what she could have with Mitsui. Whom she hadn't spoken to since except for the few words they'd shared about… nothing much. Way to go, girl. She really was no better than Ryota or Sakuragi.

Why bother with something which she wasn't even sure was worth chasing in the first place?

"Aya-chan?"

She awoke to find that they had reached the junction separating the main street from the footpath leading to Ryota's place. The 'poor, sweet boy' wasn't without a trace of that smile she'd seen before, with a trace of thoughtfulness curling the lips in their corners.

"See ya on Monday? You've sure given me a lot to think about."

"Don't I always? See you soon, Ryota. And thanks again!"

She waved to him until he finally disappeared away from the street-light glow.

Thinking back to the hurried scrap of conversation at their restaurant table, Mitsui's studious nonchalance towards her at the practices before that, his unexpected show of chivalry in the boys' locker-room and the ease with which their disdain over lesser problems had flowed through in their talk in the school hallway, Ayako wondered if the evening could have gone better than it had.

* * *

It was drizzling lightly when she first woke up the following weekend morning. Watching the raindrops stream down steadily to her window-sill, Ayako took it as a good omen. Rain was refreshing, it brought sustenance and relief. It washed all things clean. Lulled by the thought, she allowed herself to drift to sleep again. She got out of bed the second time she opened her eyes a few hours later.

Obaa-san was pottering around the edge of the garden when Ayako had made her way downstairs after showering and dressing. She liked to think her grandmother was pretty cool by most standards; old as she was, she cut quite a modern silhouette with the things that sprung from her mouth alone.

"Good morning, 'Baa-san."

"Good morning, Ayako. Your mother's gone to the post-office. She left breakfast for you in the kitchen." Obaa-san returned to the object of her present attention: a stone urn from which poured out a stream of fresh green leaves and flushed-red flowers. "Your father was always the romantic type for a soldier. He shouldn't have joined the army."

"Why not, Baa-san? He felt it was for the good of the nation."

"Pfff, what good? He should have stayed home and become a gardener for all the time he spent with those plants. You remember how he'd talk about them, like his own children? 'See here, look at the hibiscus, Ayako. It's taking its first steps towards the light, see? How clever! And look at the sunflowers! Three full feet already!' It's a wonder you were never jealous, poor child."

"Not really," Ayako smiled. "I thought it was funny, how he got so excited over them. Mother did too."

"Your mother's just as bad, see what she's gone and done with my view." She jabbed a finger up towards her window-sill on the floor above them. "Hydrangeas in a color that would put a streetwalker's dress – "

"Baa-san!"

" – to shame! Imagine waking up to that first thing in the morning, hm?"

"Surely it must be better than the grey streets and worn-out cars you see every other day."

"Oh, _those_ are certainly perfect if you weren't in the habit of looking out in the first place. Now my window has the perfect view of the Takashis' backyard. Did you know that woman takes to hanging put the laundry in the most ridiculous get-ups? I saw her in heels and a pair of those awful raggedy jeans you young people insist on nowadays, the desperation of it all…"

Ayako shook her head and let her be. The sky was cloudy but there was the rest of the day to enjoy. Though Saturdays were exempt from practices, she knew that most of Shohoku's players would spend the extra time honing skills that were sharpening with each game they conquered. Gloomy Saturdays made for challenges too; the lack of light made a distant hoop little more than a mirage. A trained shooter knew better than to fall for that trick.

Illusions. Sometimes she wondered if a hidden weakness had her slipping on the usual tracks: a deep chuckle, an assumed glance her way across the court or even the simple lack of any of these signs. Mitsui wasn't your average player. Even the word took on a different tone with him…

Breakfast wasn't often a meal Ayako spent in pondering. She had an awful feeling that this was a phase she'd have to get used to over time. It was all right for him. _He_ hadn't a clue as to what he was putting her through. Who knew? With a reputation like his, she bet that the thought of yet another broken heart on the line barely crossed his mind. _Nice hair, small waist, long legs, _that's what _he_ liked.

The list hardened in her mouth, striking like pebbles in her soggy cereal. She took a gulp of green tea to wash down the bitterness and ended up scorching her tongue. Still too much to swallow.

_Boys_. And they called women 'difficult'.

She needed… to get moving. That was it. Walking soothed the mind, running would clear it. A good, hearty jog along some rain-clear Kanagawa streets wouldn't let her down nor would it ease her hopes up more than she could take.

With that in mind, Ayako finished her bowl. In her vigor, it seemed like the clouds would already part their ways.

Maybe she'd even find the sun while she was at it.


	7. Inspiration Equals

**Inspiration Equals 90 per cent Motivation and 10 per cent Exhaustion**

_Reason #7 - Practice was the easy part_

* * *

Mitsui was getting better at bearing it, even if the grinning part still needed some work. Even if the latter _had_ been Miyagi's fault too, a year ago, before he'd had to worry about gaps in his smirks and false teeth that were _still_ taking the resentment.

Besides, maybe she hadn't even noticed that either.

It was a grey, cloudy Saturday noon that he'd awoken to. The only time he was allowed to sleep in was when he had something 'more substantial than slamming balls around' planned for later. Which he did, for a change. A study session with Akagi and Kogure wasn't exactly the glowing zenith of the week but he could use the company. Being the oldest member on the team came with too many barbs and brick-bats, worst of all the reminder of his glory years as a fading memento. Jeez.

He'd been surprised to discover that Kogure's house was only two blocks away from his. All this time, all those telephone calls, and their ever-reliable vice-captain had always been ten minutes away. Mitsui savored the shortness of the walk; it had been a while since he'd had lack of time to over-think or worry himself sick with trite teenage troubles. Until he glimpsed the first sight of Kogure's doorstep on the first floor of the split-level house, his mind was blissfully blank.

The first niggle of a doubt prodded him as he rapped politely on the door. Kogure was an understanding guy but wouldn't he assume that Mitsui was far beyond pining for someone else's girl? They were eighteen after all. They were supposed to have done away with this kids' stuff long ago...

The door opened and he blinked. The woman standing before had strikingly familiar brown eyes, not to mention the same kind smile that could put anyone at ease.

"Oh, good afternoon. You must be Mitsui-kun?"

"Uh, yeah - sorry, good afternoon to you too, Kogure-san. I'm, um, here to study..."

"Of course," she nodded, brushing aside his awkwardness. "Kimi and Akagi-kun have already begun, I believe. Come in, come in, I'll show you to his room..."

Kogure lived in a small, clean apartment that allowed little room for guessing that one of its occupants had once played for the district's second-ranked basketball team. Still, it seemed quite cozy and Mitsui spotted a cluster of bright crayon-sketches taped to the fridge when they passed the kitchen. He thought of his own bedroom: its bed, desk, and trophies gathering dust for no one to see. If she'd noticed, Kogure's mother hadn't commented on his brooding.

She paused at a door and knocked quietly. "Kimi, Mitsui-kun is here."

Kogure responded immediately, opening the door with a welcoming smile. Was it just Mitsui or was this family always happy to see anyone they met? He mumbled a greeting before entering, then nodded to Akagi who was already seated next to a stack of books on the floor. Like the rest of the apartment, the room was tiny, almost cramped when he took his and Akagi's height into consideration.

"Make yourself comfortable, Mitsui," Kogure clapped him on the back before joining Akagi. "Pull up a patch of floor, if you may."

"Sure. Nice poster you have there, Kimi."

Kogure blushed slightly at the nickname while Akagi let out a rare chuckle. "Yeah, remember that summer at the Nationals? I got a copy of the group photo we took enlarged."

"Nice."

The image of them all sweaty, exhausted, but so damn happy at the time brought back a deluge of memories. Uozumi cheering on Akagi from the crowd, Rukawa shooting that penalty with his eyes closed, Miyagi overcoming the taunts from those Toyotama players, Sakuragi smashing through that table, the fear of them being crushed underfoot towards the end and yet defeating Japan's _top-ranked team_ without a doubt. Anzai-sensei's reaction had been the best.

_That_ brought a pang to Mitsui's chest, not unlike the last time he'd last spoken to the man. The time they'd had that talk.

"So, Mitsui, Akagi and I were just getting started on trigonometry. Did you bring your notes?"

"Yeah, sure..."

Reluctantly, he reached in to his backpack and pulled out a fistful of loose sheets. He glanced over at Kogure's notes, taking in the neat handwriting and clear diagrams. The first page of Mitsui's was smudged with a drool spot from when he'd dozed off during Monday's class.

At least Kogure was polite enough to look sympathetic. Akagi frowned.

"Yeah, I know, I know. Organization and initiative, I get that." He took another surreptitious glance at page two of Kogure's notes. It listed the propertines of sine, cosine, and... what? "Well, I will. Soon."

Akagi shuffled his own in order. "You'd better. The only thing worse than bad grades is an angry captain picking on you about them."

An angry captain and his girl... but that wasn't the point, Mitsui persuaded himself. He wouldn't let his team down. Each and every one included, envy or not.

"Right," He tried to close his mind off from last night, setting on a distant goal. It always worked with three-pointers. "So, trig. Let's get to it."

He could do this, Mitsui told himself. He just had to.

* * *

In those few hours, Mitsui learnt that time could be on his side if he took it by the hand, instead of holding it with a glare. Akagi was an encouraging, if strict, tutor and Kogure was supportive enough. He made more mistakes than he thought he should, but he would learn from them and that was the most important thing of all.

Anzai-sensei had once asked him about his future plans.

"College. Work." he'd replied. It was a safe answer, one that he could fall back on and expect an approving nod from, whether he really aspired to them or not.

And Anzai-sensei had just adjusted his glasses, murmuring a faint, calm 'Ah'.

Rather than all the lectures composed of endless streams of micro-lessons composed of more lessons his father seemed so intent on drilling into him, it was the promise of what came after the beguiling 'Ah' that held him on. He waited, poised on the edge of the seat before Sensei's desk. After all these months of unrealized expectations, he needed an answer.

Anzai-sensei had just gazed back, like he would with an interesting piece of art or a scene of wasted destruction. There was always something to be said about each.

Or maybe it was high time he took his leave.

"Um, Sensei, if we're done here, I..."

"Of course you may leave, Mitsui-kun. I wouldn't want to delay your first practice of the semester."

He had frozen mid-way to the door.

"... Practice?"

"We look forward to having you on the team this winter."

Mitsui had done nothing but gape for the first few seconds, the clarity of the statement jarring to his resignation. A reformed man he was but a good enough man?

His mouth had worked on its own accord, syllable by stuttering syllable. "Y-Yeah. S-Sure, Sensei. I, uh, I... I didn't know... I, I wasn't expecting..."

"You're welcome, Mitsui-kun."

Mitsui had smiled back.

_Better. Better, a better man. I'm new, a whole new person with new dreams._

Kogure returned his practice note-book, each page of figures and diagrams spattered with crosses and corrections. He ran a thumb down the marred sheets, feeling the rise of ink beneath his skin. Scars.

He wondered if a day would come when he would finally feel smoothness beneath his hands again. Whether it was the dimpled leather-skinned basketball or his chin cupped in his palm during Chemistry, that roughness had come with years he'd always felt. He hadn't felt Ayako creep up on him that way; she hadn't been a lingering crush or a sudden spurt of realization. One sunny afternoon, she had been there after practice, and they'd had another talk about...

They'd talked about Math. It was her favorite subject and he'd liked how the side of her mouth sloped into a smirk when he confessed his latest test-score then. Was that it? Or just the way that it had been what it should have been like ages ago; the two of them together and alone, if but for a while, their one-liners falling together as easily as rain into a puddle. But maybe that was the earlier morning shower that was getting to him.

He tried to picture a life ahead of her, without her. Another blank space to be filled with by another face, cheeky wink and curly hair and steadfast gaze.

He _really_ wasn't getting this right.

* * *

It was close to six by the time Mitsui finished at Kogure's, after promising he would return next week. The sun had already set, he could sense a cold snap in the wind as he zipped up his jacket, and his head was still swimming from numbers, formulae, angles, and girlish grins that made his skin prickle beneath his clothes. Of course he needed to study if he had to get through senior year but if he had to survive it, he would follow his own path.

He knew of a street-court not too far away, one he used to frequent in junior high. Taking the chill in the air as a challenge, he swung the strap of his bag to his other shoulder so that it hung across his chest and set off at a brisk jog. Each echoing footfall brought him closer to the sweetness his mind prepared itself for. Free, free, freedom, _I am_, _I am_, _I will be_.

His old haven soon began to appear before him, in a halo of halogen street-light. The beat of a bouncing ball spurred his heart to follow suit. With a final burst of energy, his feet carried him to the edge of the chain-link fence and then promptly froze at the sight that awaited him.

Sure, she was team-manageress after all, but he never knew she could actually play the game.

If Mitsui had to draw a line at talent, Ayako would have stood clearly far behind it, compared to the likes of the explosives he'd seen from Akagi, Rukawa, and hell, even Sakuragi on his good days. But whether he really did know it or not, he had left his mind and its judgements behind him, along with study habits, lecture notes, comparitive theories, and other things that had to make sense at all. He was here and in a strange way, she had always been.

Her footwork wasn't the best but her dribbling was on point. Two times out of five, she missed the basket from her spot inside the D, three times when she stepped out. Her turns weren't as sharp as other players he'd stood against, her skin looked dewy under the light. Whenever she did turn, her hair flared out along the curve of her shoulders. Her lips were parted in concentration and her eyes blazed with a tenacity he'd only seen so close during the last few game-clinching minutes of a shoot-out.

And like all beautiful flames, she was on her last stretch, and off she went, wiping her damp forehead with the back of her hand, to the corner where the rest of her things lay. By chance or not, she gradually sensed another presence and before he could seize his opportunity to escape, her searching gaze landed on his.

She did not waver. She stood quite still, cheeks rosy, eyes steeled, hands defiant on her hips, silent and accusing. She did not waver. For the second time this year, he found his tongue acting on its own whim.

"You need to ease up on your wrists."

Ayako seemed just as surprised as he was at his own comment. "What?"

"You need to relax your wrists more," He held up his hands, thought about making an apologetic gesture, but instead flexed them about, circling around his own wrists. "You have to flick them like this to get your technique right. Don't just throw the ball or you'll end up missing."

At least she was listening. So it seemed.

"... Listen, Ayako, I'm sorry. About just standing here and watching without your permission. I'll be on my way - "

"Teach me how to do that wrist thing tomorrow and I'll let it slide."

He resisted the urge to pat a hand on his chest, if only to feel the pound of his quickening heartbeat.

"Sure."


End file.
